Umbrae of Jade
by Rhi Marzano
Summary: Sequel to Visions of Sugarplums; set a few years later. Ron and Hermione are ready to commit, but Harry and Ginny are very much *not*. A kidnapping occurs and chaos ensues. Dark(ish) and understandably less fluffy than VoS.
1. d'abord

Umbrae of Jade: d'abord  
Rhi Marzano  
PG-13  
[A/N: Sequel to Visions of Sugarplums. Darker- and with a plot! But still expect my trademark bizarre humor. Kudos to my muse, DragonChick. Dedicated to the Ultimate Harry Potter Uno Champion (UHPUC) and to Leelee, newly appointed priestess of Leprechauns. Happy St. Patrick's Day!]

Ron sat in his office, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on his desk. The hat he wore was tipped down over his eyes. Not that he really needed a hat for any reason, simply that he had taken to wearing one specifically during naps. 

The best part of his job in the precognizant department was that no one could really yell at him for sleeping. He could argue that his visions came more clearly in dreams, which was actually a total lie, but at least believable. When someone walked in, he'd just mumble, "The Dow is falling, the Dow is falling" and suitably horrify the trespasser. 

His chest rose and fell in an even pattern, heavy lids hidden by the brim of his Stetson. His doze was not quite in the realm of sleep, but not awake. He hovered eternally between the two. 

Belligerent footsteps approached. Ron yawned but left his hat down. "G'afternoon, Harry."

"Stop doing that," his best friend said irritably, snatching the hat off of his head and dumping himself down in a chair opposite the desk.

Ron regarded the surly intruder with raised eyebrows. "You and Ginny break up again?"

Harry folded his arms and growled. "She's impossible. Just up and tells me she's pissed at me, then two seconds later she's making out with some chaser in the hallway."

Ron was not really surprised by this.

It all started the year Ron, Harry, and Hermione had finished Hogwarts- and Ginny hadn't. Harry had, with little thought, dumped her and moved to the greener pastures of an attractive keeper on his Quidditch team. She retaliated the following year by joining his rival's team, and after a huge match, they'd tumbled into bed together, being violently in love for a good month. They'd broken up as passionately as they'd reunited.

Since then, Harry and Ginny had fallen into a pattern of makeups and breakups and become a favorite topic of the tabloids. When they were happy, they were delirious; when upset at each other, full blown wars seemed docile in comparison.

"She just wants attention," Ron said, itching to reclaim his hat. "Maybe you've been practicing too much at the pitch."

"Breaking up with me every other week isn't exactly an appropriate method."

"Effective, though." Ron found a glass of water and sipped it. "When you get back together-"

"If," Harry corrected sharply.

"_When_," Ron repeated, rolling his eyes. "I'd suggest you send her flowers every day for a week, and make sure you write her when your teams are in different towns."

He was used to their volatile relationship. He handed out the same advice every time. 

It didn't seem to work that well.

"Strike that," Ron sighed. "Just make sure that you don't exhaust her."

* * *

Harry folded his arms, slouched back in his chair, and stared at his best friend and the brother of his ex-girlfriend.

Ron looked content in a dreamy sort of way. Not like "mmm, dreamy," he hastily amended in his mind. More like he was in a perpetual dreamlike state. Hermione said it made him look attractive. Harry thought it made him look like a retard.

A happy retard.

Damn retarded happy person.

Harry rubbed his forehead in irritation and was reminded of the reason of his visit.

"Oh yeah," he said. "My scar was hurting this morning."

"I know," Ron said. "Do you remember the dream that came before?"

He shook his head. The images had faded throughout the day. "Just green."

Ron's instincts and clairvoyant ablities had been honed with a sharp blade, but dismissed the gift on a regular basis. "The world is screaming to you about what is to come. The cat, the ficus in the corner, the carpet. It's all trying to talk to you. Most of us have just forgotten how to listen," he had said more than once.

More useful than, "Ow, my scar."

"He's stirring something up." Ron bent the ends of his ridiculous hat back and forth. "I don't know what yet, but I've already briefed the Ministry of Magical Defense."

"Make me feel a little useless."

"No, no, no," he assured him. "You've just corroborated my suspiscions."

"Suspiscions, hell," Harry snapped. "You knew."

"I suspected," Ron said firmly. "And now you suspect, too. So the Defense can rest a little easier with the galleons they're pouring into security."

Harry glared at him.

"You're in a snit, and I'm not going to deal with it," Ron declared. "Go out and get foxed." He pulled a few coins from his pocket and slapped them in his palm. "On me."

Injured, Harry fingered the currency. "Not coming with me?"

"It's Friday," Ron said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

"So?"

"She likes me better sober." Ron grinned. "And I'm not going to argue."

* * *

Ron purchased a copy of the Daily Prophet and a cup of Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured coffee (a recent arrival on the market) from the cart on the train. Leafing idly through the sections, he caught an article on his sister's latest fling.

**No Wedding Bells for Weasley and Potter**

_World-reknowned Quidditch players Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter are reportedly on the outs. Weasley has been seen on the arm of a teammate, chaser Virgil Howard. Howard's publicist has confirmed the relationship, but no comment has come from Weasley's spokeswoman._

It made his life seem tame.

"I'm getting married in six months," he said aloud, still not quite believing it.

While Harry disparaged the ideas of maturity and settling down as "boring," Ron was looking forward to having a nice little house with nice little curtains and a girl he was crazy about to share it with. Ron was ready for a little calm for awhile.

An aching began in his head. He took a swig of the coffee and promptly spat it out.

"Bad flavor?" said a passenger sympathetically.

Ron grinned sheepishly. "Nah, just hot."

* * *

"Make sure you do your assignments," Hermione called after her students in vain. She sighed and shuffled her lesson plans. The only time her students ever seemed excited about Arithmancy was when they were leaving.

But she tried not to let it get her down. It was Friday, after all, and Ron was coming.

Ron, with his big dopey grin and unkempt clothes. She missed him dreadfully during the week; but Friday night and all of Saturday and Sunday belonged to the both of them.

"I'm getting married in six months," she informed the cat on the edge of her dask. Her face split in a smile.

The cat, as usual, did not appear to care.

Hermione hummed a frütune while preparing her next lecture. Elegant scripts of calculations graced the blackboard. She refrained from dotting her i's with hearts, though she was sorely tempted.

"Professor Granger?"

She turned her head, blinking at the unfamiliar face. "Do I know you?"

"No, ma'am," the boy replied nervously, "I'm a first year Hufflepuff. Uh, Davey Deveraux."

"Nice to meet you, Davey." A quizzical eyebrow went up. "Can I help you?"

"Your boyfriend is out in the hallway," Davey blurted. "And he's vomiting something fierce."

Dropping her chalk and gathering her robes in her hands, she ran out to find him.

* * *

The throbbing had gotten worse when Ron had stepped into Hogwarts. At first it was a nuisance, but with each movement the pain increased. Soon, his brain was swimming and the light began to hurt his eyes. The room spun, and spun, and spun, and green flashes ate away at the rest of his vision. He clutched his pounding head, unable to bear it. Bile rose in his throat, choking him, and soon he felt himself spasming and retching.

"Oh, god, Ron!" Hermione's voice cut through his haze. "Take my hand, we'll go to Pomfrey, okay?"

His stomach quieted but his head did not. She wiped his face delicately with something- he couldn't tell with his blurred eyes- and led him to the infirmary wing.

No sooner had she put him in a bed had he passed out.

* * *

_"-he needs an heir-"

* * *

"-why her?"_

"I don't know. But the master wants her, and far be it from us to understand." 

* * *

"It's the perfect time, the perfect way," insisted the chubby minister.

The other, considerably thinner and more attractive, blew his blond hair out of his eyes. "If it's what he wants done, then we'll do it."

* * *

"Who the hell are you? Get your hands off of me, you-"

* * *

The cell was dark, with only shades of green light peeking in through the cracks. She looked down at her shackled wrists, bruised and pale. She felt helpless, and vulnerable.

And that pissed her off.

* * *

"Ron?"

He opened his eyes slowly, flinching. The light was burning him- hurt like hell, and soon the fire would spread to his brain.

"Turn off the lights," he begged hoarsely. His voice didn't even sound like his own, like it had been baked and broken.

Hermione murmured a quiet spell and returned her hands to his. "What was it?"

He relaxed his chest in the darkness. He took a deep, cleansing breath and tried to compose himself. "A vision. Strong- hit me like a train. It was so big, like a thousand things happening at once, and everything shouting at me. I remember it, but it will take me awhile to sort it out."

"Alright," she said, clutching his hand. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I think so," he said, mustering up a convincing smile. "Aren't you missing your last class?"

"Someone will have taken it over for me," she said with a shrug. She pressed a small kiss to his forehead. "They'll understand."

Silence fell. His lids felt heavy and he couldn't quite keep them open. He looked up into her eyes, imploring. "Don't leave me."

"I won't," she said gently, and crawled into the bed with him. She snuggled her back against his stomach. "I'll be right here."

Her warmth and comfort kept him sane. He shifted his arms around her and rested his face on her shoulder.

She felt... different. He screwed up his nose against her neck. The puzzled expression created a brief, tingling brush of his wrinkled nose to her skin.

"When were you going to tell me you were pregnant?"

"What?" she said, swatting the arm that lay across her stomach and whipping her head around. 

"Oh," he said. "Were you saving it? Was it a surprise?"

"I'm not pregnant," she said firmly.

He raised an eyebrow. "If you say so." He closed his eyes again and nestled alongside her.

Hesitantly, she said, "Just out of curiosity, why would you think that I was?"

"Because I can feel something growing inside you," he replied, yawning. "And since you don't have a family history of tumors..."

"Oh, my god." Her grip on the blanket tightened.

"It's okay. We're getting married anyway."

"In six months," she retorted. "You have any idea how big I'll be in six months?"

"Um. No?"

"Too big to fit into that dress I've picked out."

He shrugged.

After a brief pause, she said, "September is pretty in Wales."

"That's nice," he responded in a way that seemed to also say, _if not relevant at all_.

"If we elope there, we won't have to deal with either of our families."

He thought about this.

"Good idea," he agreed sleepily.

* * *

Ginny propped up her elbows on the table. "Virgil," she said, "not only is your name hideous, but you just aren't very interesting."

Her date looked surprised, to say the least. "I was interesting enough yesterday."

"What can I say- short attention span," she said dismissively. "But, you know, it's been fun. Hey, you were even in the paper. How about that?" She patted his cheek gamely. "But honestly, Virgy, I think I should go prepare myself for some fantastic makeup sex."

"But what about us?" Virgil asked, hurt.

Ginny dug around in her purse and pressed a card in his hand. "Call her. Her name is Teri. She's very nice, and I think you'll get along splendidly."

Now he just looked baffled.

"I'll see ya at practice," she said cheerfully, and left to walk back to her flat.

It was a gorgeous night, not too cold or hot, and the lights of London shone down on her. She could have apparated home, but why waste the effort? It was just as convenient and much more pleasant to walk.

She opened her door and tossed her purse onto the sofa. "Quill, quill, quill," she mumbled, searching the room. She found one on the floor and scribbled a quick message on the back of a receipt in her purse.

_Harry- I love you. Come home._

Ginny gave it to her owl, who didn't seem fazed in the least and needed no instructions.

* * *

Harry was attempting to get fairly intoxicated, but it wasn't working. He wasn't even tipsy yet.

The twins were out with him, but they certainly weren't having any problems becoming drunk. Fred was singing off key and George kept making suggestive looks to an empty bar stool.

Harry sighed and stared at his full bottle. "I'm too depressed to drink."

"What?" George said in a huff. "Too depressed to drink? That's impossible!"

Fred hiccuped in the middle of a rendition of "Mary had a Little Lamb." "You've got to admit that's a little strange, Harry."

"I've certainly never experienced it," George confided with a wink to the stool.

"Mr. Potter?" a waitress said.

"Yeah?"

"I've a message for you," she said, handing him a scrap of paper.

Harry read it and grinned. "Look at this," he said, giving it to Fred.

"You bought pink cowboy boots for 20 galleons?" Fred said in confusion.

"Other side, you ass."

"She wants you back?" George surmised.

Fred clapped Harry on the back. "Well, at least one of us is going to get lucky tonight."

Harry grinned and split out of the bar.

* * *

He slid his key into the door and opened it. "Gin?" he called.

The lights were on, so she must be home. He checked the kitchen, where he found a bottle of open wine, and then the bedroom, where her sheets had been changed to the silk variety.

Which left the bathroom.

No one could accuse Ginny of poor planning.

He entered the bathroom, grin stretched from ear to ear. He saw the bubble bath container on the counter.

It just got better and better.

He turned the corner and saw the bath. It was piled high with bubbles, steam rising from the top. Two glasses of wine were set on the edge. There was really only one problem.

It was empty.

The window behind it was open, and a cool breeze flew in. She had been here. But where had she gone? Idly, he picked up a glass of wine and drank a bit of it.

His scar began thumping in his skin like mad, and a very bad feeling settled in his stomach.

He cursed, crushing the glass in his hand. "Voldemort." 

* * *

[Stay tuned for part two (within the next two weeks), where Ron and Hermione go to Wales, Harry tries to find where Ginny's kidnappers have taken her, and Draco Malfoy makes his first appearance.] 

* * *

[ Click here to report possible abuse to staff ] 
1. d'abord2. et deux3. dans le moyen4. une fin provisoire


	2. et deux

Umbrae of Jade: et deux  
Rhi Marzano  
PG-13  
[A/N: I'm kind of sick (as in ill, not perverted, although some may definitely attribute the latter to me), but I think I'm going to be okay because spring-ing-ing break has started! You have no idea how much I need the vacation. Thank-yous to my muse, the UHPUC, and to Leelee, as well as the amazing AliciaII and Lindsey. I suppose I should include my onee-san as well, but she knows I love her anyway. A big hug for everyone who reviewed. ::said big hug::]

* * *

'Twas true no month was kinder to Caerphilly than September. Oh, it was always filled with a majestic air, with a haunting tune carried on the breeze. That was a given characteristic of Wales. But the sweetness of summer and whimsies of winter could not compare to the mild, modest beauty of September.

The sun shone brightly above, its rays dancing down onto her cheeks. She held her head up to more fully experience the warmth.

Her hair was adorned with a circlet of red and orange leaves, and the rich brown mass made a striking contrast to her ivory gown.

Hermione couldn't have been happier.

Well, that was a lie. She'd be a whole lot happier when Ron finally convinced that damn vicar to marry them.

Sure, eloping in Caerphilly sounded terribly romantic. It would be a great story to tell their children. _We married in a grove of heather..._ or something. But it certainly lacked the organization of a full blown wedding.

She heaved a sigh and tapped her shoes against the ground. A horrid thought struck her mind.

"Please, God," she prayed fervently, "don't let Ron beat up the vicar. No bodily harm. Is that too much to ask?"

Ron chose that moment to exit the edifice with said minister. He towered over the pudgy man, who looked a little frightened but blessedly unbruised.

"To the park?" suggested the minister nervously.

"Capital idea, Henry," Ron said, grinning.

Hermione thought about smacking him for addressing a clergyman so informally.

But she forgot about it when Ron turned that smile on her.

* * *

Harry tore apart the flat, searching high and low for clues. He _ knew_ Voldemort's minions had taken Ginny, but as for _where_ they had taken her, he was clueless.

It was his fault she had been taken. Only the deaf, dumb, and blind were unaware of their tumultuous relationship. Why wouldn't Voldemort seize upon the chance to lure Harry with her?

"I should have thought of it sooner," he said aloud. He dragged his fingers through his hair. He felt like such a worthless cad. He should have protected her, should have known this could happen, should have never started up with her in the first place.

"I can't do this," he said, slumping against the wall. "I don't have the talent."

Ron could do it, though.

He squinted at a calender. It was Saturday; Ron spent the weekends at Hogwarts with Hermione. Waiting until Sunday night was not an option.

He found the brooms in the bedroom closet, of all places. Only Ginny would put the racing brooms next to her lingerie. He fingered the lace briefly and felt a fresh wave of guilt.

He grabbed one of his brooms and left.

* * *

It certainly didn't take long for something eternal to be created.

The ceremony had been short but it had certainly fulfilled the criteria. He was personally glad that he did not have to endure his brothers' teasings on his wedding night.

Ron swept his wife (!) up into his arms and carried her into the hotel suite. "I love you," he said fiercely.

Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek while he set her on the bed. The small gesture lit the fire in his soul, and he went to work on the buttons of her dress.

A _lot_ of buttons. And not only were these fasteners abundant, they were also insanely small. How on earth had she gotten _into_ this thing?

He attempted to locate a knife, but she stared at him in horror.

"I want to save it for our daughters." She bit her lip and looked at him in a way that made him choke back a curse.

His fingers were too large, too awkward for such nimble work. It took nearly ten minutes for the task to be accomplished. He wanted it to be perfect tonight. It certainly wasn't their first time together; his child growing inside of her was testament to that. But tonight was different. Man and wife, and all that. And, really-

Hermione pushed back his jacket and removed his shirt.

His brain had a tendency to stop functioning when she undressed him. Which, unfortunately, caused his plans of slow and sweet to go out the window.

His mouth found hers and claimed it urgently. His hands worked quickly to elminate any furthur barriers between flesh and flesh.

"I love you." She uttered the phrase as his mouth travelled down her collarbone.

That alone made it perfect.

* * *

His journey to Hogwarts was swift. His journey _through_ Hogwarts, however, was not.

Harry impatiently waded through the crowds of dumbstruck students. Apparently an idiocy virus was going around, and it was highly contagious. Fans were practically assaulting him, and acting stupider than anyone he'd met in his life, except perhaps Fred and George when they were really foxed.

"Excuse me, sir," said a skinny, pimply boy. "Are you-"

"Harry Potter," Harry finished. "Yes. Excuse me."

"Could you sign my broom?" he asked eagerly, thrusting the object at him.

Harry sighed and scribbled his signature. "There you go."

A girl tapped him on the shoulder. "Uh, sir? I was just wondering if-"

"Yes, Ginny Weasley and I are back together," Harry said shortly.

She looked crestfallen.

He couldn't keep aimlessly wandering the halls. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Ron or Hermione since arriving.

_Ah,_ he thought. McGonagall would surely know.

"Professor McGonagall!" he called, entering her classroom.

She looked up from a stack of papers at her desk. "Mr. Potter, what a pleasant surprise." She almost sounded sincere.

He was warmed that she'd pretend he was more important than grading scrolls. Well, not really. He was really too infuriated to be much warmed by anything. "Do you know where Ron and Hermione are?"

She adjusted her glasses. "Cardiff, I believe."

Harry blinked. "Wales?"

"Might be Caerphilly," she mused. "Yes, I think it is Caerphilly. Why?"

"What the _hell_ are they doing there?" 

"I doubt that's any of our business, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said lightly, frowning a bit at his language. "This is a pressing matter, I gather?"

Harry shifted his gaze to the wall. "You could say that."

"They're staying in a rather nice hotel," Dumbledore said, suddenly appearing in the doorframe. "I could be persuaded to give you the name if you told me what this was about."

"Ginny's been kidnapped." His patience wore thin. "By Voldemort. I have to find her."

McGonagall's jaw dropped noticibly, but Dumbledore only raised an eyebrow. "Any clue why?"

"Me."

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. "What are the terms of the ransom?"

"Ransom?"

"You know, 'give us five million galleons or else' written in magazine letters," Dumbledore said helpfully. "That sort of thing."

"There wasn't a ransom note," Harry said after running through the contents of Ginny's aparment in his mind.

_Wait,_ he thought frantically. _Why would Voldemort take her to capture me, but then neglect to leave a come-or-else note? That doesn't make any sense..._

Unless this isn't about me at all.

"He's got something planned for her, doesn't he?" His voice rang out sharply.

Neither of his former instructors said anything.

Harry began to curse, and turned to leave.

"The Quinn Inn," Dumbledore said quietly.

He mustered up an abrupt "thank you."

* * *

It really wasn't enough to lock her up in a prison cell and take away her wand. Nah, they had to chain her to the wall as well. Ginny thudded her head against the rock. "Hoo boy," she said. "This sucks."

A shiver tore through her like some erratic force of weakness. She fought it, roughly rubbing her arms. She'd come too far to be reduced to some pathetic, sniveling female.

At least she'd been in her clothes when she'd been nabbed. Not _much_ of them, but she was decent. With disdain she glanced down at her camisole and boxers. They didn't do a whole hell of a lot against this damp, cold hellhole.

"Enjoying yourself, Weasley?"

"Oh, having loads of fun," she said acidly, glaring at the new arrival.

Draco Malfoy leaned against the bars of her cell, draping his arms in the cross sections. She wished she wasn't chained so that she could go over and slap the smirk off of his pale, pretty face.

She envisioned beating the snot out of him in graphic detail and felt much better.

"I've brought you your dinner," he said easily.

"With a nice, steaming cup of hemlock, I'm sure," she said sweetly. "No thanks."

He looked sorely tempted to do just that, then sighed and shook his head. "'Fraid it's water and gruel for you. The Master likes skinny, but he draws the line at gaunt." He fit a key into the lock and swung open the gate.

She wanted so badly to refuse the food, but she hadn't eaten since Friday night. The bastard had the gall to look amused as she slurped down the contents of the bowl and the glass.

"Your etiquette is appalling," he said with interest.

"The sooner I finish, the sooner you leave," she shot back.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." He took the two containers away and set them on a table outside. 

Then he closed the distance between them and extended a long finger, stroking the underside of her chin slowly.

Revulsion filled her and she jerked away. She couldn't move her legs enough to knee him in the bollocks.

"You have some fire, do you?" he said with interest. "Maybe I'll try you out for the Master."

"You're disgusting," she said, and spat in his face.

Briefly anger flashed in his eyes. He wiped his the spit off and grasped her chin. "I'd slap you, but I fear your skin would bruise."

"Or maybe you're just too weak."

Malfoy shook his head and chuckled. "You're not helping yourself, Weasley."

Ginny stared defiantly into his cold, blue-grey eyes.

He brought his mouth down savagely against hers, overpowering her senses, slicing through her common sense. It was horrifying and passionate, all at the same time. _This has to stop,_ she thought desperately, and bit down on his lip with a vicious intensity.

He drew back, running a finger over the blood. "It's such a shame," he said softly. "You'll be so boring once you've been broken."

He locked the cell behind him, and she was alone again.

* * *

Hermione propped her head up, digging her elbow into the pillow. Ron was asleep, but to call it a peaceful one would be less than truthful. He stirred constantly, the coverlet twisted around his frame.

She glanced at the clock. It was only half-past ten. "Far too early to be sleeping," she murmured, but that was only part of the reason.

For some vision to nab him so quickly, it had to be bad.

Sometimes he worried her, she thought as she dropped kisses on his chest. His gift could consume if he wasn't careful.

"'Mione?" he mumbled.

She continued demonstrating her affections in a slow, relaxed pace. He responded in kind, and the love was languid and just as powerful as earlier.

As they settled in each other's arms, the door burst open.

"What the hell?" Ron growled, squinting at the light.

Hermione focused her heavy-lidded eyes. "'Lo, Harry."

Their best friend looked fairly bewildered. "What are you doing?"

"We just got married. What do you _think_ we're doing?" Ron said irritably.

Harry flushed a deep scarlet. "I thought you were getting married in a couple months."

"We decided to elope," Hermione said.

"But why?"

"So that we can make mad, passionate love without worrying about people interfering," Ron said darkly.

He didn't seem to be catching the _go away_ hint. "Congratulations?"

"Thank you," Hermione said graciously, and decided to make things clear for the poor, baffled boy. "Now could you leave us alone?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Ron's head snapped up. "It's Ginny, isn't it?"

Harry took a shaky breath. "Abducted."

"By who?" Hermione asked.

"Voldemort." Ron's voice was quiet. "_For_ him, at least. He wants an heir."

"What?" demanded Hermione, thrusting the sheets aside and sitting up. "We have to find her."

"That's the general idea," Ron said. He gathered up the sheets and wrapped them around her. "Keep your eyes of my wife, Potter."

"Twenty minutes, downstairs. Get some clothes on," Harry suggested, and closed the door.

* * *

Draco was in need of a distraction.

The task he'd been given by Voldemort was not terribly exciting. The rewards were lousy, the dungeon smelled of dung and mold- and mold _on_ dung, and most of all, he was a damn babysitter.

Not that one could call Ginny Weasley a baby. But wretched-future-child-bearer-of-the-Dark-Lord-sitter didn't have quite the same ring to it.

She'd been chosen because of her previous susceptibility. She'd been Voldemort's tool for the Chamber of Secrets. And now she would be the tool for giving him firmer ties to the mortal realm and allowing him to come back into power.

It was probably a bonus for old Voldie that she was Potter's, through and through. But he'd had her picked out long before she was even with Potter.

His eyes darted into the cell where she sat, her face set like flint. She was strong now, but soon she would weep. It might take longer with her than most.

_If he doesn't show up soon, I will break her myself._

His mouth curved in satisfaction.

Now, that was an excellent diversion. 

* * *

After pulling on a pair of trousers and a shirt, Ron brushed his lips on Hermione's forehead and rose to leave.

"Aren't you going to wait for me?" she asked, dressing as well.

Ron regarded her curiously. "You're not going," he said as if it were obvious.

She planted her hands on her hips. "What do you mean, I'm not going?"

"You're pregnant."

"So I'm suddenly useless?" Her voice was rapidly jumping octaves.

"No," he said hastily, "just that-"

"I'll have you know, Ronald Weasley, that my elevated level of hormones has not significantly affected my magical abilities!" she flared. "Especially that of turning you into a toad!"

Lamely, he said, "I just want you two to be safe."

"In the event where I cannot protect myself, you are perfectly capable of doing so." She dusted off her sleeve. "Shall we?"

Ron sighed and escorted his wife downstairs. _Note to self: don't argue with her. You're not going to win._

"What's she doing here?" Harry's voice was quiet and intense.

"Watch it," he warned Harry under his breath. "She's moody."

"Where shall we start?" Hermione said brightly.

* * *

[The Adventure begins! Wah hah hah! Next chapter in one to two weeks- Malfoy, Weasleys, and the possible return of Günter? You might be scared ;)] 

* * *

[ Click here to report possible abuse to staff ] 
1. d'abord2. et deux3. dans le moyen4. une fin provisoire


	3. dans le moyen

Umbrae of Jade: Part Three  
PG-13  
Rhi Marzano

[A/N: Ughh. Sorry if this is subpar, however, I think I am going to vomit at any minute and my head is pounding. Thanks to Lindsey, of course, for aiding me in my dress shopping quest (a mission from God, I'll have you know) and to Mandy for putting up with my horrid driving. Ink, Emma, UHPUC, AliciaII, Leelee, Onee-san, you rock!]

* * *

"Adventures should not begin in the library," Harry grumbled.

Ron opened a rather dusty volume and launched into a coughing fit.

"Crusading about aimlessly is not going to help anyone," Hermione said from several shelves over. "It's best we narrow this down as much as we can now."

"You never hear about the brainy, intelligent hero," Harry continued. 

"Our swashbuckling star strode into the silent section, slicing through the souls of the sweet sylphs," Ron said, grinning. "It's got a ring to it, don't you think?"

"I've always appreciated alliteration," Hermione put in.

"Don't quit your day job," Harry said sourly. "Speaking of your day job, any more brilliant flashes other than a cold, dark dungeon?"

"I'm sorry to report that most people to not consciously think of their address, and certainly no one does it for long enough for me to pick up on it." Nearly instantaneously, Ron had turned peevish. "And I'm not a human compass. Or a damn trick pony, either."

'"No one suggested you were," Hermione soothed. It did little good to ease Ron's boiling blood. Stuck amongst stacks of tomes was not how he had pictured his honeymoon.

_Not that I should be resentful. It isn't Ginny's falt she was kidnapped._ Ron picked up another volume and dusted off the cover. **Your Herb Garden**. He placed it back on the shelf. "'Mione, have you eaten today?"

She looked up from an encyclopaedia. "Um... a muffin, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, that might have been yesterday," she allowed, adding brightly, "but I'm taking my prenatal vitamins."

"Vitamins," he said in disgust, "are expensive urine." He fished a chocolate frog from his bag and handed it to her.

"Breakfast of champions," she said wryly.

"It's something, at least," he said, firing a disapproving glare. "Eat."

"Yes, dear," she said, unwrapping it and resuming reading her text.

The Ministry's library was extensive, even more so than that of Hogwarts, which was no simple feat. It was complete with every thing imaginable, the dream of a researcher- in an extraordinarily boring way. But it could take years for one to find something, and time wasn't something they had. He sighed and began sliding his fingers along the ledge. Ron's hand passed over a book with green bindings and his knees buckled. He frowned, and ran it back over, the effect being the same.

With one hand, he grasped the edge of the shelf, and with the other, he grabbed the book. "I think I've found something," he said, unsteady.

He pulled the book out slowly, carefully. He heaved a sigh of relief when it cleared the shelf. _See? Absolutely nothing to worry about._

And then he passed out.

* * *

"I'm missing practice," Ginny said. "I never miss practice."

"That's a filthy lie," her warden said mildly. "I read the gossip sheets, too, Weasley. 'Potter and Weasley both absent from their respective team's practices today; close friend hints of reunion and is confident of its permanence.'"

A dull blush rose on her cheeks. "Well, that's different. I at least told the Captain that I would be gone those times."

"'Their captains deny word from the two,'" he quoted blithely.

"What, do you keep a stack of tabloids there in case you get bored?" she demanded, irritably blowing hair from her eyes.

"I got to be research boy for a year," Malfoy said. "I know more about Potter than anyone needs to."

"Eye color?"

He gave her a _oh, puh-lease_ look. "Green."

"Birthday."

"July 31st, thank you."

"Name of his favorite pillow," she said with a bit of a grin. Harry had told her this only after a long foot-tickling session.

Draco's lips curved in a mocking smile as he replied, "Jackie."

"Damn, you're good," she said in admiration. "But I can't imagine that being the information fetcher was much fun."

"Certainly less frivolous than your Quidditch playing."

"You're just jealous," she said primly. "I get paid for doing something I love. And that's not counting endorsements. Do you know how much I get for saying, 'Gee, there's nothing like Phyllis's Plum Pudding'?"

"One hundred and fifty thousand galleons annually," he said.

"It was a rhetorical question," she snapped. "I'm just saying. I followed my dreams, my life turned out great."

"You followed your _boyfriend's_ dreams."

"Better than letting my father decide for me."

His voice rose to dangerous levels. "Are you implying that mine did?"

"I very much doubt you spent your childhood saying, 'I can't wait to be a Death Eater.'"

"Do you understand the concept of responsibility? Duty?" Draco's eyes smoldered. "This is what Malfoys do. What we've always done."

"Attempting to overthrow the powers of good. What a marvelous father-son bonding activity." She rubbed at her chains. "Tell me, did you ever consider anything else?"

"Considering anything else would else would be foolish and a waste of my time."

"So, your father forced you."

"No," he said calmly. "I had a choice to not comply. But I don't particularly like dying."

"As messed up as my family is, they've never threatened me with death. Seriously, that is."

"How charming," he drawled.

_I could rip that drawling tongue of his right out,_ she thought. _And feed it to Ron's dumb owl._

* * *

"Don't you think it's going to get annoying?"

"Hmm?" Hermione said absently. One of her hands rested on Ron's still forehead and the other held the book that had overwhelmed him.

"You know," Harry said. "Being married to this specimen of horrid health. Constantly fainting, puking, whatnot."

"While I am obviously concerned about him, I do not find his problems irritating." She shot him a look. "And I would think you, as his best friend, would not be such a dick."

As if nothing had happened, she turned the page in the book and tousled Ron's hair.

"Hermione, I think you just called me a dick."

"I might have done," she responded, not sounding the least bit contrite. "Sorry about the substandardness of the insult. I would have added more adjectives, but I am a trifle absorbed by this passage."

Harry stared at her in disbelief. "Something strange is going on."

"Oi, Harry!"

Harry turned around to see George standing by the window, grinning like an idiot. _What is with Weasleys and their idiotic happiness?_ he thought in exasperation. "Where's Fred?"

"In that tree," George said, gesturing at an oak that stood outside the building.

"Oomph!"

George peered out the window. "Well, now he's on the ground."

"I gathered," Harry said.

"We're rather put out with you, you know," he said glibly. "McGonagall sends us a note about the situation, and while we're hurt you couldn't think to post us yourself, we're even more hurt that you didn't ask us to come along."

"No offense, George," Hermione said, "but I don't see how fake wands and exploding candy would aid us in recovering your sister."

"Stress relief," he said promptly. He narrowed his eyes. "What were you and Ron doing in Wales?"

"They were getting hitched," Harry informed him.

Fred suddenly Apparated, looking slightly sheepish. "I haven't climbed a tree in a long time, you know? It sounded like fun. Hell, it _was_ fun until I fell." He winced and rubbed his back. "I hope I didn't break anything. Humpty Dumpty and all that."

"Fred," his twin admonished, "we're chewing them out, remember?"

"You weren't doing a particularly good job of it," Harry said crossly. "Could you two stop clowning around? We're trying to work here."

Hermione kept reading.

* * *

"Herr Weasley?"

Ron's eyes flew open and he jumped. "Günter?"

Hermione's German cousin bared his teeth in a disturbingly feral manner. "Ah, _sehr gut_. I was wondering when you were going to start listening to me."

"Tell me you're not really here," he said plaintively. "I don't think I can deal with you on top of everything else."

"How about the bottom, then?" Günter suggested, then placed his hands up in the air. "_Spass_- A joke, a joke. No, I'm not really here. But what you seek is on page 452, if you'd like to know."

"Thanks, I think," he said. "Could I wake up, now?"

"O-K," the German said cheerfully.

* * *

"I swear," Ron said, groaning as he sat up. "My life gets weirder and weirder."

"You alright?" Hermione asked. She brushed the back of her hand on his forehead.

"Page 452," he said.

She blinked.

"Just humor me."

As she rifled through the book, he scooted next to her and gazed over her shoulder, pressing his lips periodically to her neck. "Have I mentioned that I love you today?"

"No, but it was rather nice of you to do so," she said, with only a bit of a blush.

A discreet clearing of the throat from Harry reminded him that they were not alone. Harry was looking like he was trying very hard to keep his eyes buried in a book, but his brothers- _when had they gotten here?_- were staring, unabashed.

"They just got married," George said in a stage whisper to Fred.

"Do you mind?" Ron said petulantly.

"Not at all," Fred assured him, and kept staring.

"Ah, here it is," said Hermione. She skimmed over the page and handed it to Ron. "It doesn't make sense to me at all."

Ron traced the page with his hand and let his index finger settle on a caption below a picture.

**Jadedge Manor, a former residence of Hogwarts cofounder Salazar Slytherin, was used in the nineteenth century as a prison and a meeting place for graduates of the House of Slytherin; known for boisterous festivites. Today, it no longer serves as a penitentiary but retains the honor of hosting the annual alumni party in October.**

"That's where they're keeping her," he said. "I know it."

"It sounds like a frathouse," Fred said critically.

"Can I come?" George asked eagerly.

"No," Ron and Harry said in unison.

"It's September now," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Could there be something planned for the party?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," said Ron grimly. "Think about it. Slytherin alumni? It's practically a Death Eater convention."

"Where is this place?" asked Harry.

"Surrey."

"Surrey it is, then," Harry announced, and shoved his stack of books on the racks.

* * *

Ginny was rudely awakened by being plopped in a bathtub.

A rather nice bathtub, if one wanted to be honest about it, with bubble bath and warm water and everything. It was rather like the one she had been rudely _stolen_ from in the first place.

"What is this about?" she demanded. Malfoy stood, back against the only door in the room.

"The Master is coming soon," he said, "and he doesn't like grubby little wenches."

She found this explanation highly unsatisfactory, but it was probably all she was going to receive at this time. The warmth felt incredibly good after days of her cold, dark, smelly cell.

"Did you undress me?" she asked, reaching for soap.

"Yes. You sleep like the dead."

"Harry says that, too," she mused. "I suppose I should be thanking you for the bath."

"Orders," Malfoy said stiffly.

"Orders," she mimicked. "The Master this, the master that. You've become such a pansy."

"And you've become repetitive," he retorted. "Wash yourself up and be done with it- or do you need help?"

"No, thank you." She lathered her hair vigorously and dunked her head underwater.

Water droplets were dewy on her eyelashes. "You know, it would be excellent if you could get me out of here. Defy your father and that stupid Master of yours. Reclaim your dignity and manhood."

"I wasn't aware my manhood was missing." But he seemed to be tired of the loaded comments. "Here's your towel, and some fresh clothes."

She accepted them with good grace. "Could you turn your back?"

"I've already seen you naked."

"So you don't need to see me naked again," she said reasonably.

He sighed, folded his arms, and faced the door.

* * *

They boarded a train to Surrey. It was, after all, more reliable than apparating and much less conspicuous.

"Did you ring your mother earlier?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. "At the hotel. She was pleased to hear the news."

"Even about the baby?"

"Ah, well, that," she said, coughing. "Shocked, but eventually pleased."

"That's good," he said with relief.

"But I wouldn't be near my father _or_ my brother with blunt objects around for a good two years if I were you."

Ron swallowed.

As an afterthought, she added, "My father wants to carve your heart out with a paring knife and feed it to the dog."

"Do you even have a dog?"

"He said he was going to buy one for the occasion."

Ron's face turned a sickly green.

"Ah, young love," Fred said brightly, popping into the compartment.

"I thought we told you to **stay away**," Harry said.

"I think you did, too," George said. "But I think we ignored you. We _are_ older, after all."

"We're going to be uncles, eh?" Fred said with interest. "Tres exciting."

"I'm just thinking of mini Weasley sweaters," George said. "I wonder if Mum can fit that much ugly in a smaller version."

"That would be a task," Harry agreed.

"Do you think your mother will teach me how to knit?" Hermione wondered.

Ron gave her a strange look. "Yeah, I guess, if you wanted."

"I think it would be nice," she said wistfully.

"Hormones," George said knowingly.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and fetch us some food?" Ron said irritably.

"I do not _fetch_ things," George said haughtily.

"I'll give you some spending money."

"Oh. In that case, sure."

The train bumped and jolted along.

"Harry, you doing okay?" Hermione asked gently.

"I'm worried about her," he admitted.

"She'll be fine," Ron said. "She's strong. She can protect herself."

"I know," he said. "But I still worry."

Ron brought his arm around Hermione and placed his hand on her stomach. The world was changing all around them, the landscape speeding by, with barely a glimpse of what was there before it had gone.

_I hope it slows down soon,_ he thought. _Once and awhile, I'd like to stop and smell the roses._

When they got Ginny back, everything was going to be okay. He'd buy a nice house in Aberdeen, maybe. Somewhere near to Hogwarts so that Hermione could come home each night. Several bedrooms so that the kids wouldn't have to share. He could get them a nice white fence, and a yard. A large herb garden. And, of course, a nice little sheepdog.

His face paled, remembering her father.

Strike the dog.

* * *

[::evil laughter:: Erp. Ignore that. What's in store for next chapter? You'll just have to see. To get an email when I write the next part, sign up for my notify list: [http://theburrow.net/nf.html] I know you want to. And review, too! Pwease?] 


	4. une fin provisoire

Umbrae of Jade: Part Four  
PG-13  
Rhi Marzano  
[A/N: ::cries:: I know it's been more than a month. A crapload more than a month. Like six weeks. I'm really sorry, but my life has just exploded. Final projects everywhere. Large thanks to AII, UHPUC, Hoyden, Leelee, Emma, and Ink. I hope this is worth the wait.]

* * *

Jadedge Manor was rather impressive. It stood four stories, brick, with ivy climbing around its corners. A forbidding iron fence surrounded it, approximately ten feet high with each bar sharpening to a point at the top. It was the type of place that evoked images of attack dogs, and rightfully so, for a vicious army of hounds lay in wait by the entrance to apprehend so much as a stray air molecule. 

The five of them- Ron, Hermione, Harry, and the twins- stood outside the gates with a look of gloom permeating their faces. Four of them despaired due to the lack of accessibility into the place where Ginny was being held, but Ron's unease was caused by something much more disturbing. 

"She's not here anymore," he said softly, fingers lightly touching the cool metal of the fence. The pads of his fingers dances along the edges, as if gauging how long she'd been gone. 

Hermione slipped her hand into his free one and gave it a squeeze. 

"They'll have to bring her back for their Oktoberfest thing," Fred said cheerfully. "We could wait. Ambush them or something."

"It could be too late by then," Harry said fiercely. 

"Or it could be too late already," George said. "We might have lost her trail."

Ron's eyes bored into the wall. He could almost see the bricks swirling into stone and smoke. 

"London?" he mumbled. 

"We'll give it a shot," Hermione said, and directed the little troop back to the train station. 

* * *

Ginny had held high hopes when Malfoy had taken out of the dungeon. "Your boyfriend is too close," he'd said with a sneer- one of the ones that she just wanted to swipe of his face- and had dragged her out through a series of underground passageways. Once they were out in the open, though, she had been certain that her Quidditch popularity would lead to her rescue.

She was not counting on being surrounded by Muggles in London. 

"I'm not going to chain you," he said into her ear. "But I do have a wand that I will hesitate to use. So behave yourself."

His grip on her wrist was tight enough to be a handcuff. _On a crowded street, I'll make a break for it,_ she thought. 

"I'm hungry," she said. 

Malfoy gave her a look. "You know, you were chosen because you weren't supposed to be a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, well I stopped being a doormat after awhile. It got boring," she said glibly, and patted her stomach. "Can we get some food?"

"Only if it's a pub with poor lighting."

"I'm thinking that's not going to be an issue," she replied. 

An establishment suiting his specifications was found rather quickly. It was a shifty side of London, after all. Malfoy chose a booth in the corner. "Get in," he said quietly. Ginny made a face at him and slid into the seat. He scooted in across from her, trapping her against the wall from beneath the table with a powerful leg. "No quick movements," he warned.

"Whatever," she responded. She glanced over the menu.

An overweight waitress with bad teeth and drab hair was over in a moment. "What can I getcha, love?" she asked, bearing a crooked, crusty grin.

"Iced tea and a club sandwich," Ginny spoke up, even though she knew the waitress was eyeing Draco. 

"And for you?" she purred. 

"The same," Malfoy said flatly. 

"It'll be up in just a jiff," she said, and sauntered off in what was supposed to be an attractive manner. 

Ginny simply began to giggle. 

"It's not funny," her companion said sullenly. 

"Her teeth are an interesting shade of yellow," she continued. 

"If by interesting, you mean putrid, I'm sure I'd agree."

She choked back a laugh and scanned the restaurant for alternative exits. There weren't any windows, but there might be one in the restroom; there most certainly was a small door leading out from the kitchen, and there seemed to be an opening to the heating ducts above the bar.

Ginny believed in being prepared. 

* * *

Harry was going to kill Fred. Or George. At this point, the two were indistinguishable on the irritability meter. How could the two of them sit there, flirting and giggling with the birds with too much makeup in the next compartment? Their sister was in serious danger, and all they could do was try to score dates.

He sent them a murderous look, and Hermione's eyebrows shot up. 

"You can't expect them to be consumed with worry," she said pointedly. 

"Well, any sign of concern would be nice." Harry folded his arms on his chest. 

"You should really try to take your mind off of it," Ron suggested, tossing him the paper. "Fretting isn't going to solve the problem any faster."

_Easy for him to say,_ Harry thought mutinously. _He's got his girl tucked up beside him. _

With a sigh, Harry flipped through Ron's copy of the Daily Prophet, wondering briefly where he had obtained it. Some Ministry scandal stained the front page. It wasn't a particularly new or interesting story, so he only skimmed it. The second page held blurbs about the band who would be singing before the Cup finals, the Irish seeker Aidan Finch, and speculation about the whereabouts of Ginny and himself.

**"They've run off to get married," says a close personal source. "In Crete, it's very romantic."**

"They're vacationing in the south of France," says another friend. "They've rented a large chateau."

Contradicting tales are found all around, but the truth will show up sometime next week when the semi-finals begin in Quidditch.

It seemed like forever ago since they'd been tangled up in their revolving door relationship, each bit documented by the papers. It hadn't really stopped, but Harry felt removed from it somehow in the few days since her abduction. More focused on what he wanted.

He wanted her back, dammit. 

He missed the way her hair smelled, her laugh, her skin. He missed her cooking and her tendency to orchestrate their making-up. He missed that sparkle in her eye, that spunk that set her apart from every other girl he'd ever met.

And if any of that had been changed by this nightmare, he was going to have to kill someone.

And being as Voldemort was kind of hard to get to, he just might have to settle for her irritating twin brothers.

* * *

"This food sucks," Malfoy proclaimed, spitting out a bite. 

Ginny ate it regardless. "Of course it sucks. You couldn't have expected the meals to be stellar in a dump like this."

"I'm going to send this back," he said.

"You'll just get another crappy meal back," she said, shrugging. "Just deal with it and eat."

A snarl ripped from his pretty face. "I don't have to _deal_ with anything. I'm a Malfoy, and I get what I want." His glare was violent.

She burst into laughter. "You are a snob, you know that?"

Within minutes she had polished off the substandard sandwich and the iced tea. She was just dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin when a shriek rent the air.

**"FRÄULEIN!"**

She blinked as a tall, muscular man skipped across the room. Not only was it unusual to see someone skip, but it seemed particularly out of character for some body-builder to be doing so.

A rapid-fire string of German endearments flew from the individual's mouth as he clasped his hands to his chest.

And then she recognized him.

"Günter!" she said brightly, silently thanking the good Lord. "How are you doing?"

Günter Granger grinned broadly. "_Sehr gut, sehr gut._ I hear that your brother has absconded with _meine Cousine_. Or is it ab-scone-ded?" He pondered this for a half a second and then shrugged. "I have poor English."

"Absconded," Ginny affirmed.

"I like ab-scone-ded better," he said. "I am fond of scones."

"Where have they gone off to?" she asked.

"Wales, the land of faeries. Gotten married and shaved a few years off of the dear _Doktors_ Granger." 

"Virginia," Malfoy interrupted in honeyed tones seeming almost genuine, "please tell your friend that we have pressing business to attend to." Nothing on his face betrayed that his foot was stamping insistently upon her unfortunate toes.

"Business?" Günter exclaimed in shock. "For so pretty a girl as she? I must protest! Fräulein, come with me, we shall go harass my relatives. It shall be much more fun."

"She really needs to stay with me," Malfoy said firmly, eyes narrowing. "Tell him, _dear._"

Günter took Ginny's arm forcefully and prodded her out. Ginny's legs were still caught up in Draco's, but he was no match for a burly German.

Provoked to the point of confrontation, Malfoy whipped out his wand. Hermione's cousin regarded it curiously, then snapped it easily in two and tossed it in Ginny's empty glass of iced tea.

"We'll be back in a few hours," Günter said carelessly. "Have fun in London, _ja_?"

"You know, Günter," she said as they walked out of the pub, "I haven't been this glad to see anyone in a long time."

* * *

The train made a ceremonious stop in London. The five of them got off, with three withdrawn-looking individuals and two very cheerful boys.

"She was hot," Fred said dreamily.

"She _was_ hot," George agreed.

"Would you two shut up?" Harry demanded. The twins proceeded to taunt him mercilessly and Harry's temper exploded.

"You need to rest," Hermione said quietly to Ron, ignoring the progressing scene.

"So do you," he replied, rubbing his aching temples, "but time isn't going to stand still."

"We'll go to my parents' place," she said. "An hour's nap will renew your focus."

With a sigh, he studied the ground. "I'd need more than an hour."

"The others can continue looking if need be. We can keep in touch with them."

"Your father wants to castrate me."

She flashed a half-hearted smile and said, "You _are_ bigger than him."

He couldn't think of any more opposition. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. "We're going to the townhouse." Ron threw the words over his shoulder. "It's only a few blocks away."

"What about Ginny?" Harry said immediately.

Ron heaved a sigh. "We're in no condition to keep looking at this point. We'll resume the search in a couple of hours."

Harry glared at him.

"It really must be a talent to look that pissed off all the time," Fred said to George.

"A gift," said George sagely.

"Why do I get the feeling they're not helping?" Ron asked under his breath.

"Because they aren't." Hermione matched her strides to his.

* * *

"So what brought you to England this time?" Ginny directed the question to her Hessian savior.

Günter tapped a finger thoughtfully over his mouth. "I am in need of some funds. Why not appeal to my loving family?"

"Hopefully they will welcome us both," Ginny said.

"Of course they will," he said with a scoff. "We are adorable." With that, he rang the bell.

Dr. Granger opened the door with a flicker of surprise. "How pleasantly unexpected," she said, beaming. "Has your brother sent you to calm my husband down?"

"I'll do what I can to help," Ginny promised. She relaxed, knowing her fears of rejection were off base. She jerked a thumb at Günter. "I picked him up in a pub. Can we come in?"

"Of course," Hermione's mother said.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Granger," Ginny said, emphasizing the address with sweetness. 

The woman's heart practically melted with the respect given to her. "You're the nicest girl," she sniffled, and ushered the two of them inside.

* * *

Ron felt a little foolish, hiding behind his wife as she opened the door to her childhood home. "Mum," she called, "I'm home."

"We're in the kitchen, dear."

Hermione tugged on his sleeve and he obediently (if a bit hesitantly) followed her. The twins and Harry lagged behind.

They found Dr. Granger in the kitchen, serving tea. "That must have been a terrible ordeal," she was saying sympathetically. Seated at the table was Hermione's cousin from Germany, and...

His sister?

"Ginny?" Ron blurted, peering over his wife's shoulder.

"I saved her from a very boring individual over on the other side of London," Günter announced. "Attractive, but dull as those shoes you have on."

"Malfoy," Ginny clarified, grinning a bit. She stood and crossed the room. "He wasn't very happy about it."

"Thank god you're okay," Hermione said fervently, embracing her new sister-in-law.

"Harry, get your ass in here!" Ron shouted, twisting his frame towards the door.

Harry, looking surly still, plodded into the kitchen. When he caught sight of Ginny, his jaw dropped and he threw his arms around her. "Oh, god."

"Please don't muss my hair," she said. "I finally have it looking decent for the first time in days."

"I don't give a damn about your hair," he said feverishly, and crushed his mouth to hers.

Hermione and Ron primly turned their backs to the passionate reunion. Fred and George, who had just entered the room, showed no regard whatsoever.

"Will you marry me?" Harry asked after breaking the kiss (presumably for air.)

Fred grumbled as he fished out a couple of galleons and slapped them in George's palm.

Ginny cocked her head. "No."

Fred quickly retrieved the coinage and smirked.

"What do you mean, no?" Harry said in outrage.

"I mean you're going to have to ask me better than that," she shot back irritably.

"That _was_ a lousy proposal," Günter piped up.

"I don't need your help," Harry snapped. "Dammit, Ginny, I love you. Marry me."

"I'm going to have to think about it," she said, flouncing out of the room.

"_Ginny!_" came his exasperated cry.

Ron cleared his throat. "Well, um, Dr. Granger-"

"You can call me Mum, dear," she interrupted.

"Er, Mum. Hermione really needs to nap for a little while, so if you'll excuse us..."

"Oh, of course," she said, waving a hand dismissively. She gave a brief hug to her daughter. "Your father should be civil by dinnertime."

"Thank you, Mum," Hermione said gratefully. Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they walked up the stairs.

* * *

Ron lay in bed with his wife, breathing in the scent of her skin. He tried to close his eyes and sleep, but too many thoughts flooded his mind. Ginny had been rescued, but the danger was not gone.

Voldemort was still out there, and the shadows remained.

"Ron," Hermione yawned, "sleep. You know you need it."

His arms loosened around her. "I'm trying."

"Just relax," she urged, brushing her lips to his cheek.

"I'm trying," he repeated. He moved a hand to over her stomach, where his daughter grew within her.

"Everything's going to be okay now," she said placatingly. She patted his hand, turned over, and fell promptly asleep.

"That's the thing," he whispered softly into her hair. "I'm afraid it's not."

* * *

[Here ends Arc 1 of Umbrae of Jade. I apologize for the delay, but it will be awhile before I begin Arc 2. Expect a new story from me, featuring haut D/Gness, before I continue working on this. As for Arc 2, there will be... more on Hermione's pregnancy, problems with family, and the growing threat of Voldemort. Thanks for reading so far! If you'd like to know when my next fic is up (or the next chapter of this) please join my notify list: http://theburrow.net/nf.html] 


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